


Couldn't Happen Here....Right?

by stealthficcer



Category: Glee
Genre: F/F, F/M, Forced Prostitution, Humiliation, Imprisonment, Kidnapping, Racism, Rape/Non-con Elements, detention camps, political nightmare
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-07
Updated: 2019-01-07
Packaged: 2019-10-06 08:56:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17342411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stealthficcer/pseuds/stealthficcer
Summary: So...this fic is a what would happen if crazy, shithead, misogynistic, racist politicians are allowed to go unchecked.  Names of actual shitty politicians have been changed.  Santana winds up suffering.Seriously, this is some terrible shit because it takes actual things that are awful and happening and ramps them up to be even worse.





	Couldn't Happen Here....Right?

When Ronald D Pumt, an openly racist, proudly ignorant, misogynistic, xenophobic, homophobic, vitriolic bigot and compulsive liar who idolized dictators, loved mindless adulation, abusing women and stirring up the ignorant, hateful masses that made up his political base, became president (despite losing the popular vote), sane Americans tried to stay positive. After all, he was a prime example of why the founding fathers had built checks and balances into the government. Of course, it soon became clear that the majority of congress, controlled by Pumt’s political party, was not only going to enable his horrific behavior but use his rhetoric and popularity with the slavering mobs to push their own agendas.

The majority was not silent. They protested, they fought, they demanded a return to decency...but it was all for naught. Smirking, the Speaker of the house, the Senate Majority Leader and Pumt conspired to appoint a regressive, serial sex offending, perjuring partisan judge to the SCOTUS. Without allowing any true investigation or background checks of the man, they forced Kavanish onto the bench, tipping the SCOTUS far in favor of Pumt’s whims.

With only 2 months till elections, people prayed that they wouldn’t manage to do any more damage to what America was supposed to be….

Wishful thinking, right?

As soon as Kavanish was seated on the SCOTUS, the country changed for the worse. Anyone who opposed Pumt or spoke out against him was arrested in the dead of night by I.C.E., whose charter and duties were vastly expanded by Executive order. Other federal law enforcement agencies like the ATF, FBI, DEA etc, were disbanded, their agents fired, their ranks pillaged for those willing to swear loyalty to Pumt. Not the United States, but to the office of the President. Many new ‘Agents’ were hired straight from militias and other White Supremacist groups.

At the same time, assassination began to happen, former political leaders Pumt disliked were found dead. His smarmy, privileged Press Secretary assured the fearful nation that all this was being done in the name of national security...via Fox News and Breitbart, the only 2 legal media outlets allowed in the US.

Many tried to flee to Canada and Mexico, both countries tacitly accepting American refugees, but anyone caught trying to cross the border was sentenced to one of the new “Traitor Rehabilitation and Productivity” Centers, overseen by former Sheriff Joe Arizzo. 

Callin one of the TRaP Centers a forced labor camp was grounds for a public beating.

Women’s rights were stripped by the end of October. No woman was allowed to vote or hold a job (though if a husband or father sought special permissions, they could do menial jobs, just not for pay). Any property in a woman’s name was immediately transferred to her husband, father or closest male relative or the government. Divorces were nullified and women became the property of their first husband if they had remarried.

All progress toward equality and LGBT rights were struck down even faster. No marriage, no adoptions, no legal protections, required registration with the government. It was a horrible oppressive rule, forcing people back into the closet or into sham lives...but anyone publically out, if they didn’t register, ICE soon arrived at their doors.

Minorities never had it easy in the US, but in Pumt’s America, if you weren’t a rich, white, straight ‘Christian’ man, you were fucked. Hate crimes skyrocketed because there was no longer any penalty that would dissuade terrible people from committing them. Rapes, well, a woman trying to report a rape was usually ignored.

The world watched in horror as America fell to her knees, democracy choked by an oligarchic kleptocracy.

On November 1st, Pumt declared himself “President and Best Ruler of America for Life and More!”

The elections so many hoped would begin the path to healing the wounds and degradations inflicted by the hateful little man were cancelled. All future elections were. Any officials were now hand picked by Pumt or one of his senior advisors.

Even with all this happening, Santana Lopez didn’t think it would truly effect her comfortable life that much. Sure, she had to wear an armband with DYKE emblazoned on it, but that didn’t stop her from living her life. She figured her father’s money would protect her.

How naïve she was to believe that.

One afternoon, as she was walking home hand in hand with Brittany, a van pulled up beside them. Big men in SWAT gear piled out and grabbed her, pulling her away from Brittany and tossing her in the back of the van. She could hear Brittany screaming her name as the tires screeched and they pulled away.

Santana cursed and swore, glaring daggers at the ICE agents. None of them wore name badges and the masks covered half their faces, making them unidentifiable. Not a single one of them spoke to her, simply secured her handcuffs to a bar over her head, laughing amongst themselves as they repeatedly ‘searched’ her, groping her tits and fingering her cunt.

The ICE detention center she was brought to was a nightmare. Santana was fingerprinted and processed like a criminal, her Cheerio uniform torn off of her body by two huge men as another watched from a chair. The boss in the chair leered at her and said, “Make sure to search this one thoroughly.”

There were chuckles and Santana spat at one of the guards as he forced her toward a table. It had a metal pole sticking up from it and a loop she didn’t understand the purpose of...not until she was forced to bend forward, her neck secured in the loop. “Let me go!” She demanded, but her struggles meant nothing to the men and they easily strapped her hands down.

Then came the long, invasive bodily cavity search. Santana bit her lip and closed her eyes, disgusted as bare fingers were shoved into her pussy and ass, pumping in and out, probing and stretching her far more than necessary. They laughed at her struggles and mocked her about how wet she was.

It wasn’t her fault she had a juicy pussy.

Once they finished violating her, she was given a black thong and a thin, white, threadbare cropped tank top that barely managed to cover her tits. A red bracelet was fixed around her wrist bearing a number, #39134 and the letters A, M, H, FM, P.

It wasn’t until later that she learned what those letters meant in this context. A = Grade A. M = Mexican (All Latina’s were marked as Mexicans by the racist fuckwits). H = Homosexual. P = Prime. FM =. Fuck Meat.

She was dragged into a massive hanger full of cages and flung into one with a dozen other women and girls. A sign on the outside read M 14-18. There were other cages that said the same thing, then others with different letter and number combinations M 18-25, M 8-14, N 8-14, O 14-18...a quick glance told her they were being divided by race and she couldn’t read any of the signs further away to orient herself.

Grabbing the metal fencing, Santana shook it and shouted, “What the fuck! Let me out of here! I’m going to sue your asses!”

“Settle down, Hot Sauce,” One of the guards said with a leer. “You ain’t suing anyone.”

“Like hell I’m not! Suing douchebags is practically the great American pastime!” She snapped. “When my Daddy hears about….”

That made the agent laugh. “Daddy and Mommy can’t help you. They’re being processed at other facilities. You anchor babies are the lucky ones. You might not get sent to a UIWC.”

UIWC. Unwanted Immigrant Work Center.

Santana paled. “No! My parents are US Citizens! They’re a doctor and a lawyer!”

“And they ain’t from here so that means jack shit.”

“Hey!” One of the other girls said, stepping up beside Santana. She was stunning and had a thick southern accent. “My family’s been Texan since before it was part of the United States! Y’all ain’t suggesting I’m not Texas born are ya?”

The man rolled his eyes. “You’re Mexican. You just admitted it.”

She gawked at him and Santana spat a curse at him.

That was the last thing she remembered clearly before the pain and blackness.

When she came to, she wasn’t in the cage anymore but instead a drab room. She was bound at the wrists and ankles to the table she was bent over. There was a faint sniffling beside her and Santana turned her pounding head to see Miss Texas in a similar position beside her.

“What...What happened?” She groaned, trying to shift and feeling a disquieting ache between her legs and a sharper burn between her cheeks.

Miss Texas whimpered. “They...they said they wouldn’t tolerate troublemakers,” she told Santana. “You got shocked with a cattle prod. You were lucky. I was awake for….”

Santana could hear what she didn’t say. “Those bastards raped us!” She said, feeling tears prick in her eyes as she tried to wrench herself free. Miss Texas began to weep again. Anger and humiliation surged through Santana’s veins. “These assholes are gonna pay.”

The door creaked open slowly and she tried to look back over her shoulder. “Look who’s finally up,” a smug voice said and a hand landed on her ass with a sharp slap. “This ass was tight when you were out cold. I can only imagine how it’s gonna feel with you squirming under me.”

Narrowing her eyes, Santana snarled. “I hope your dick falls off before you die a slow and painful death.”

He snickered. “Aw, I’ve has all my shots, so it doesn’t matter how diseased your fuck holes are. I’m not catching any of your dirty sexican whore diseases.”

Nothing else was said before he thrust into her ass, the motion painful for her, but smooth, telling her that someone ( or more likely a few men) had already cum in her ass or there had been a bit of lube used. That really hammered home the fact that she had been violated and used in that way while she was unconscious.

These were federal agents.

In a government facility.

There were obviously cameras recording their actions and abuse.

Clearly, they weren’t concerned about being caught...and if they were caught, no one would care.

No, Santana realized.

There would be no one coming to condemn these men for what they were doing.

There would be no one coming to save her.

* * *

A week of repeated gang rapes by the guards only served to reinforce her realization, but Santana refused to give in. Some of the other girls and women broke easily and didn’t even try to fight. She refused to be cowed. Every part of her ached, never given enough time to rest and recuperate, the horror of the camp making her feel physically ill.

Women came and went, the younger the girl, the faster she was gone. A few of the guards were full on perverts and took a liking to one of the younger girls in Santana’s cage. When she’d tried to protect the girl, she’d wound up tied to a fence at the edge of the camp, a wooden dildo shoved up her cunt and her ass sticking out through the fence. 

That had almost broken her, the knowledge that people outside the camp knew what was happening and simply didn’t care. Her poor, battered asshole had been fucked countless times that day by passing men in spite of her sobs and begging for help.

Standing in her cage, Santana shifted from foot to foot. On the rare occasions she slept, it was uncomfortably on her side, because sitting was out of the question. At least once a day, one of the guards would brutally spank her. Front sleeping was out too, as her tits were constantly tender and she thought they had grown a cup size or two.

The other girls were filling out more obviously. She could see expanding asses and swelling tits and lips. They were all starting to look like hypersexualized stereotypes.

One of the older women in another cage had managed to strangle herself with her tank top so they were all naked now, not even given blankets to cover themselves.

She herself didn’t see too much physical change. Sure, her tits were a bit bigger, but it wasn’t a huge difference. The guards laughed when one of the other girls asked why Santana wasn’t having the same physical issues the others were. They’d laughed and said she already looked like a Border Bunny Blow Up Doll.

Occasionally, men were led in and allowed to walk between the cages, selecting the women and girls they liked. Most of the times, the girls would be returned after the men had their fun, but sometimes….

The agents were pimping them out and selling them as sex slaves to rich white guys. It seemed unbelievable that this was happening, but Santana witnessed new depravities daily. Those who faked playing nice (or were broken enough to actually just behave) got a bit of extra food and warm water showers...overall, slightly less brutal treatment.

Santana eventually saw that as a possibility to escape. Earn enough favor for them to lower their guard…

Could she do what she needed to do to earn their complacency though?

When one of the guards strolled by, she leaned against the fence. She gave him a little coy smile and the man slowed, his swagger becoming more pronounced. All these assholes thought they were hot shit.

He looked her over as Santana pushed her full breasts against the fence, running his tongue over his teeth speculatively. He was a recent transfer to the facility, not anyone she’d had to deal with before, but these chumps had the same weaknesses. Flash the tits and a smile and they assumed it was because they were so irresistible. 

Yeah, right.

It was more about the fact that she was fucking starving. They were fed of course, but never enough. The guards always laughed and said no fat chicks.

Fuckers.

“You look a little lonely, Bean Bags,” the man said with a sneer.

Santana pasted a fake coy smile on her face and batted her eyes at him, “You have no idea,” she purred, running her tongue over her swollen lips. From the cage across from her, a slightly older woman scowled, clearly pissed her own advances had gone unnoticed.

The guard sniffed and gave a little nod. “Get back, animals!” He growled, running his nightstick along the fencing. He didn’t need to ask twice as the girls shrank back, huddling together.

To be honest, Santana wanted to join them. She knew that going through with this would make her feel even worse...but fuck, how could it be worse? Playing along, pretending she wanted him to fuck her and getting something out of it was totally better than being raped.

That’s what she had to tell herself.

“Out,” he ordered and Santana stepped out of the cage, her hands balled into fists, nails digging into her palms. She could feel how her heavy, unbound breasts jiggled, feel the eyes on her as the the guard relocated the cage and then pointed down the aisle.

Santana didn’t look at any of the other women she passed, not wanting to see their judgment, hunger or, worse, understanding. She kept her eyes locked on the far wall, her bare feet slapping the cement floor. Occasionally the guard jabbed her in the back with the baton, directing her toward the walled off area that held the offices, break room and ‘interrogation’ rooms.

The guard’s keys jingled as he unlocked the door and ushered her in. Interrogation 1 was closed, cries and laughter echoing out from under the institutional grey door. She tried to ignore it. There was nothing she could do. That thought made her empty stomach roll.

The room she was shoved into heels a cot with shackles on it and a locked cabinet of ‘tools’. Sadly, it was one of the less disgusting interrogation rooms. The blanket on the bed even looked clean. As she stood there, she saw the red lights on the cameras set up around the room flare to life.

“Sit your ass on the cot, Hot Sauce,” the guar smirked, licking his meaty lips. “Let’s see you play with that lezzie juice box. Get it nice and wet, give me a good show.”

Shame colored Santana’s cheeks a warm red as she settled onto the cot, noting that she had been right, the bedding was clean. She couldn’t bring herself to look him in the eye as she leaned back against the wall and spread her legs. Two days prior, all the girls had been freshly waxed, so her pussy was bare and smooth, exposed and vulnerable as she began to finger herself.

Being half starved didn’t help matters, but Santana tried to pretend she was anywhere but there. She thought of Brittany, pushing aside the ache of how much she missed her, remembering the blonde’s clever fingers and tongue, the taste of her kisses and the smell of her skin…..

“You got a beefy cunt,” the guard chuckled, palming his cock through his BDU pants. Santana gritted her teeth, trying to ignore him, fingers desperately working her clit. “Getting wet too. You sure you’re a dyke? Seems like you’re looking forward to getting stuffed.”

Santana closed her eyes, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of seeing the humiliation in them.

When something prodded at her pussy, she jumped. Opening her eyes, she groaned as she saw the thick, black baton nudging at her. She fucking hated it when they used their nightsticks.

She didn’t fight though, biting her lip as the long baton pressed into her cunt, the smooth shaft sliding against her slick walls. “Tell me how much you love having your dirty holes full, Whore,” he demanded, moving his hand to twist the tool inside her.

“I love it,” Santana replied, her hands falling to grip the blanket, spreading her legs a bit more. “Can’t get enough of it.”

“You’re nothing more than a Mexican slut, just like the rest of them, aren’t you?”

“Yes, sir,” she managed to reply, cringing. She hated playing along with their perverted and racist dirty talk. “I’ve never been able to keep my legs closed.”

 

“That’s right,” he hissed triumphantly, pumping the baton in and out of her. “Fuck, you’re just dripping for it. Nasty, wet cunt.”

Wet squelching noises echoed through the room and Santana tried to pretend like she wasn’t disgusted. She could feel her pussy juices leaking out of her, dripping down her ass crack.

“Get up!” The guard snapped, slapping her tits firmly. “Keep that in your cunt and get your ass onto my cock.”

His dick was out, hard, fat and long, as he settled on the edge of the cot. Santana got up and the guard - Biff, he looked like a Biff - grabbed her hips, moving her to stand in front of him, his fingers digging into her flesh as he pulled her cheeks apart. He chuckled and spat on her sore pucker, thumb sinking easily into her.

“A little loose,” he mocked, causing her to suck in a breath.

“Well, maybe if you all would stop fucking my ass 10 times a day I’d get a chance to tighten back up!” She blurted, which only made him laugh.

Biff didn’t care, yanking her down onto his cock. Santana yelped, going tense as her battered rectum stretched around his thick shaft. “Ow,” she whimpered, not holding back because the guards seemed to like it when the girls cried.

“Keep fucking yourself with the club,” he growled, holding her waist firmly as he thrust up into her body, hips slapping against her round ass.

One of the cameras was pointed directly at her and Santana stared at the glowing red light as she began to fuck herself with the baton. Grunts, slaps and wet, fleshy sounds filled the air and she tried to zone out, tried not to think about what was happening.

It worked pretty well...until she cried out, an unexpected orgasm hitting her. In her attempt to distract herself, she’d unconsciously begun to rub her clit. Her cunt and ass clenched around the baton and Biff’s cock. Juices gushed from her pussy, squirting onto her legs and falling onto the floor.

Before this hell had begun, Santana had loved how sensitive her clit was, how easily she could cum. Here though...the guards loved to force her to cum.

Biff was true to form. “Fuck!” He grunted, slamming up into her and emptying his balls into her bowels. “Dirty whore! You Beaners love it up the ass!”

He wrenched the baton out of her pussy before pushing her off of his dick, leaving her aching asshole gaping and leaking his cum. “Clean me up!”

Gross. Santana slowly turned, wanting to tell him to clean his own damn dick, but instead she knelt and bowed their head, licking the taste of her ass off of his skin.

After a few minutes, she stopped and said, “I kinda worked up and appetite….got anything to eat?”

His brow quirked. “I might...but first, after sex, a slut’s gotta piss. Do it.”

Santana blinked, then looked around, “There’s no bath…..”

“No, I mean right there, on your knees.”

Her face crumpled in disgust and Santana froze. Seeing her indecision, Biff pulled out a chocolate and peanut butter protein bar and dangled it in front of her.

A loud growl echoed from Santana’s stomach and she almost sobbed as she let her muscles relax, feeling hot piss run down her legs, joining her pussy juice on the floor.

The protein bar tasted like dirt in her mouth as she devoured every crumb.

* * *

The camp operated like a jail. The girls spent most of their time in their cages, allowed out only to be fucked and occasionally spend an hour in the fenced yard to get sun. They ate, slept and were hosed down in the caged. It was soul crushing.

They had no idea how much time had passed, though some of the women had gotten their periods. Many hadn’t yet...but they could have been knocked up. No one could be sure.

“#29134!” A guard snapped, stopping by the cage and looking them over. Never at their faces though. The guards always kept their gazes on their tits. “UP!”

Slowly, Santana heaved herself to her feet. She wondered if it would be guards today or if they were pimping her out to some random guy.

She was led out of their cage and to a smaller shower room where the guards cleaned up girls for VIP use.A couple of the younger girls swore they’d been taken to a hotel where President Pumt used them for a night.

The water was still cold, but she was allowed actual soap and shampoo. Santana scrubbed her skin, trying desperately to feel clean, to wash away the sweat and stench of despair.

The following douche, enema and full body waxing was less pleasant that the shower.

When she was pushed into a chair in front of a makeup table and was told to “make herself pretty”, she realized this was definitely not just going to be the guards raping her today.

After a few attempts at her makeup, she was deemed whorish enough. A thick, black leather collar was fixed around her slender neck and her wrists were bound tightly behind her back with matching cuffs.

When the spider gag came out, Santana tried to struggle, but the guards were prepared for that. Soon her bright red lips were spread wide, held open by the metal device, drool spilling from her lips.

She was forced into high heeled sandals, delicate scrappy things with a 4” heel that would make running difficult. The spreader bar between her ankles rendered any potential escape attempts moot.

“Hate to see you go,” one of the guards grunted. “Sweet holes even after all the cock you’ve taken.”

“Oo?” She tried to ask, grimacing as the gag mad her words into gibberish.

He snorted and slapped her ass. “Someone decided he wanted a live in Sexican fuck toy. Your new Owner is signing the paperwork right now.”

Santana’s stomach felt like it was full of ice. What kind of person would buy another human being? What was he going to do to her?

These thoughts ran through her mind as she was pushed into the office. A big blond man was speaking with the camp’s commanding officer and when he turned Santana’s eyes went wide. 

Russell Fabray smiled coldly at her and said, “She’ll do nicely. I’ve been waiting to fuck this little slut for years.”

The sound of their laughter echoed through the room and out into the holding areas. All the women there knew that kind of laughter was never a good thing.

TBC…...

**Author's Note:**

> So yeah, I'm going to be doing a bunch of Kink Meme Fills from Glee, Riverdale and Teen Wolf. Basically going for the 'Special Seat in Hell' fills. If you have a suggestion, feel free to leave a comment!
> 
> Feel free to drop me a message on Tumblr :) https://stealthficcer.tumblr.com


End file.
